


Haran - Rogue, Chapter 8| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

by ACourtofSnakesandStars



Series: Rogue| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader [8]
Category: The Mandalorian
Genre: Bad guy alert, F/M, Hot bad guy alert, Mentions of Death, Reader Insert, Swearing, force sensitive! reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACourtofSnakesandStars/pseuds/ACourtofSnakesandStars
Summary: Summary: The Mandalorian tries to get back on with his normal routine without you. So he decided to go visit Peli on the quiet, almost deserted planet of Tatooine. Where he will meet no one of interest or danger. At all.Warnings: Hmm, not many. Some light swearing and mentions of death briefly.AN: I’m not sure if everything I wrote about Tatooine is strictly ‘correct’, so forgive me if not!
Relationships: Din Djarin x reader, The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader, The Mandalorian x reader
Series: Rogue| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171574
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Haran - Rogue, Chapter 8| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

_Mando’a translation: Haran – Hell_

The Mandalorian watched you walk away. 

He watched your figure retreat further and further into the distance, each step taking you closer to Nevarro, and further away from him and the kid. He watched until he could see you no more, then sighed, murmuring to Grogu and returning to the cockpit to leave. 

And it hurt. 

He knew it would, he wasn’t stupid. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt so very much. Didn’t expect that it would feel like you’d wrenched his heart from beneath his armour and took it with him. 

He hadn’t even hugged you. Touch like that was rare for Mandalorians, wasn’t considered… ‘normal.’

But when had your… friendship… ever been ‘normal’? You’d started off as hunter and prey, for Maker’s sake. He’d hunted you down and took you onto his ship with every intention of delivering you to the new Client and being on his merry way. 

Only, you were different. You didn’t shy away from him. You didn’t cower or beg for your life. You were cocky, inappropriate and had a silver-tongue and knew how to use it. You got under his skin and drove him insane. 

But… he’d laughed more times with you than he had with anyone that wasn’t the kid. 

You made him feel… less alone. And he’d hoped he’d done the same for you

Then you’d saved his life. 

And he’d realised just how much he had come to adore your presence and your company. 

As cliché as it sounded, it was like having a little bit of sunlight in his ship. 

Well, no. That might not be the right analogy. You weren’t just sunlight. You weren’t just a flame; you were a blaze. 

You burned brighter than anyone he had ever met, determined not to be dragged down by your past. Your anger was a storm, ravaging everything it came near, with all the force of a tempest. He’d borne the brunt of it enough times in the few months he had been together. 

But you had a light inside you, a thirst to see the good in the world, the beauty no matter how dark it may have appeared. He admired that about you. There was a word for it in Mando’a. _Shereshoy;_ a lust for life. 

The last argument you’d had… He knew from the moment you ran from the market, that you would lash out. He didn’t know how, but he’d seen the shift in your eyes, seen the way that fire had blazed – only to gutter out into consuming darkness. 

It had flickered as you had yelled at each other, and when he saw it go black, saw darkness cloud over and suck you into the depths, he’d dived right in after you. 

It had been instinct to run to you, catch you in his arms and let you both sink down together. Only he held you from being pulled too deep.

And you’d let him. 

The moment you’d let go and curled into his body, was the moment he felt everything change. 

It had broken a gate within him. A carefully and purposely crafted wall of adamant in his mind that held back the force of everything he shouldn’t feel. 

It was why he’d done what he did the other night. 

He’d been on the hunt, tracking the bounty. It was an easy one, so easy he didn’t even really need to think about it. Which of course, left his mind open to wandering. 

And it kept coming back to you, over and over again. 

What you were doing, if you were okay, if the ship was too hot for you and if he’d set the locks correctly. 

He always had the same thoughts whenever he left the kid, but with you there, they had eased. He’d trusted you from that first night you sung Grogu your mother’s lullaby. 

So that didn’t plague him. 

No, it was your hair that was the main subject tonight. That damn hair that he couldn’t take his eyes off of since the moment you’d let it down a couple of days ago. 

The light had caught it just right, turning it to gold and when you ran your hands through it…

He’d been struck with a craving so intense; it took his breath away. 

He yearned to move away your hands, replace them with his own. 

To shuck off his gloves and truly feel the silky texture of it, to feel anything but the worn leather interior of the material. 

He couldn’t have been more relieved when you’d landed on the desert planet. He had though that the Maker had taken pity on him, saving him before he could do something really stupid. 

The distraction had remained with him throughout his hunt, sneaking up on him whenever he should be at least trying to concentrate. 

By the time he’d caught the bounty and had begun to lug him back to the Crest, his body had begun to itch. Less of a persistent irritation and more of a yearning. At first, he’d thought it was from the heat, but when he’d climbed the ramp to the Crest, he could smell the lingering aroma of the soap you’d used in your shower. 

He’d quickly dispatched of the bounty in the carbonite chamber, eager to escape to the small storage compartment he had now taken up residence in. 

He hadn’t bothered to take back his sleeping quarters, something in him wanting to give you that small bit of comfort. Besides, he’d slept in worse places. 

He’d retreated there after a brief conversation with yourself, trying to clear his mind as he lay on the collection of blankets and sacks that he’d made up for his bed and waited for his body to relax and sleep to claim him. Eventually, it had. 

It wasn’t Grogu’s crying that awoke him that night, as it normally would. 

No, it was that damn smell. 

It had filtered through his helmet, invading his sleep and gently tugged him awake. 

He’d sat up and without a thought, followed that scent like a hound. 

It had led him to the kitchen and then…

Then he’d seen you. 

In that flimsy drape of fabric that could hardly call itself a dress. 

There was just… so much of your skin on show. So much of your smooth skin on display, lined with scars here and there but it didn’t matter to him. It told your story, your survival 

The Mandalorian’s own body had tightened, heat blazing across his skin and making his armour uncomfortable. He rarely acknowledged the heaviness of it, but standing there, looking at you, had truly made him feel the crushing weight. 

And when you’d turned, the water rolling down your neck…

The image of removing his helmet and catching that bead of water on his tongue, of trailing it up your neck and finally tasting your skin that he knew would be as sweet as your scent.. it nearly undid him. 

In fact, it did. It broke a restraint in him and set a haze in his mind that cleared only when the beeping of the autopilot had demanded his attention. 

He’d sat up in the cockpit for hours afterward, staring at his now gloved hands. 

He had touched you. He had removed his gloves in the presence of someone else, trusting in you not to turn around. He’d felt you. 

Felt that gorgeous, silky hair on his fingers. 

Felt the bumps of your spine beneath your skin. 

The noises you’d made, the sighs and the moans, they were branded into his memory, followed him when he finally went back to bed. 

They’d echoed in his ears, playing over and over until his trousers had become even more painfully tight and he was forced to fix the problem. 

The next day, the pleasure and breathless thrill of what had occurred went stale. It turned into shame, disgust at himself for treating you like that, _thinking_ of you like that in the late hours. 

The snide voice in his head had whispered that it was time, time to invoke what he already planned when he was out on his hunt. 

And like a cowardly fool, he gave in. 

The betrayal and hurt in your eyes when he’d told you had been like a punch to his heart. 

He’d been battered in fights and that hurt less. 

Hurt less than this pain as he re-joined the atmosphere above Nevarro and moved the ship away. 

Was he making a mistake? Should he have kept you with him? OR stayed with you, even just for a little while longer? But what if someone had caught up to you or spotted you and gave you up. There would be no telling who would-

_Ping!_

A metallic note on the back of his helmet snapped him from his frantic thoughts, echoing in the confines of his helmet. It had come from Grogu’s direction.

He turned around, looking at what it was… and saw Grogu’s ball on the floor. 

“Hey, kid, what are you doing?”

An angry gurgle emanated from the little green creature, waving his arms in the air and his face full of disdain. 

Mando sighed, “Look, I know you’ll miss her, but we have to do this, okay?”

Grogu only waved his hands again, and suddenly the ball was flying through the air, bouncing off of his visor before rolling along the cockpit again. 

“Hey!! Now you decide to use your powers? That’s enough. This has to happen.” He pointed a finger at Grogu. 

Which just made the kid burst into tears and scream. 

Loudly. 

Mando swore under his breath, pulling him out of his crib and plonking him down on his lap. He turned back to the front of the ship, one hand holding the back of the kid’s head, the other piloting the ship, “Hey, hey… look, I’m sorry but… she had to leave. It wasn’t safe for her to stay with us..”

Grogu just wailed more, his little fists thumping into Mando’s belly. He was not happy with his father, and seemed intent on letting him know that. 

He sighed, letting Grogu pummel him. After all, his little hands barely made an impact, and it just reminded him painfully of that night in the cargo hold, where you fought him and broke down. He switched the ship to autopilot, tilting his head down to give Grogu his full attention. “Grogu.”

More wailing, the little tyke was determined not to pay attention. 

“Cmon, Grogu. Look at me.”

Grogu’s head shook rapidly from side to side, his little body shaking with sobs. 

“Not even for cookies?”

A pause. A questionable gurgle replacing the wailing. 

Mando couldn’t help the smile on his face behind the helmet, “Ah, see, I knew that would get your attention. If you look at me, I’ll let you have the pack.” It was bad parenting, not to mention bribery and he knew that. But anything to stop Grogu being upset – and to convince himself he’d done the right thing. “Just look at me, okay? And listen..”

Grogu lifted his head up, looking up at his father with glossy, tear filled eyes. 

Mando felt his heart break a little, and he gently wiped the tears from Grogu’s cheek with the back of his little finger, “I know you’re mad at me, and I completely understand why. But… there are so many people after her. After us as well.”

Grogu listened intently, little snuffly breaths rising from him now and then as a result of the previous tears. 

The Mandalorian reached across to a little box beside him, pulling out a package of the blue space cookies. He unwrapped them as he spoke, “The people that are after us all might start to work together. They might think that… if they can get to one of us, they can get all of us.” He pulled out a cookie, then held it out to the kid. “Everyone knows that I threw away the tracking fob. And that will draw more attention.”

Grogu took the cookie, biting it and his head tilted as he let his father speak, munching away. 

Mando leaned back in his seat, head still tilted down to watch, “If they find us… they find her. Any of the bounties I catch could turn, like that guy before with the tail. So.. if she goes to Nevarro… She can blend in and hide. Cara and Greef will monitor anyone coming in. They’ll keep her safe and steer away any authorities or hunters. She’ll be safer there than she will with us… and if we need to, I can draw away any hunters who think we’re all still together.”

Grogu’s ears sagged a little, a softer coo rising from him that flung a few tiny blue crumbs onto his fathers lap. 

Mando huffed a slight laugh, shaking his head a little, “Messy.” He brushed a few more crumbs from Grogu’s mouth, “Do you understand though? Why I had to do it?”

The kid nodded, though he still looked sad.

The Mandalorian held him closer, “I know, kid. I wish we didn’t have to do it either.”

~

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Just travelling to Tatooine. His ship needed repairing, and the Mandalorian hadn’t met with Peli for a long while. 

And… maybe something in him was craving the comfort of… a friend? 

Besides, the kid loved her too and he wanted to cheer him up. 

He would see if the sparse planet had any extra work for him. He doubted it, the cantinas were rarely ever half full, but it didn’t hurt to try. He needed something to keep his mind occupied and away from thinking of a particular cocky, snarky, gorgeous companion. 

When he was close, he set the ship to autopilot, the display on the panel and his internal body clock telling him it was time to sleep. 

He scooped up Grogu, who had been playing with his ball, “C’mon, kid. Time for bed. You can come with me tonight.” 

The Mandalorian made his way to the little area that had become his bedroom. He looked down at the pile of blankets on the floor, pausing. 

Maybe he should return to his bed. The floor was wreaking havoc on his already aching back, and it was _cold_ on the floor. 

He sighed, taking way too long to think about it, before returning back up to his sleeping compartment, pressing the pad on the wall to open it. 

_Fuck._

The entire compartment smelt like you. It hit him as soon as the door slid open, wafting under his helmet and filling his head with your scent. He swallowed back a soft groan, made his body move across the room. He didn’t need this. He needed sleep. He needed to focus. 

Mando walked across the room and set Grogu laying down closest to the wall, before sliding in and manoeuvring his clunky body and armour into the bed too. 

It was stronger here, the smell of your perfume. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could imagine you were there with him. Tucked up against him, sleeping deeply and evenly. 

He sighed, pulling the blankets over Grogu’s body and then his own, images swirling through his mind, the same ones that taunted him every night when he tried to sleep. He tried not to feel them, the thoughts that relentlessly filled his mind. It had made him restless, made his inhibitions low – hence why he’d found you in the kitchen, unable to hold back on the things he wanted to do and say. 

Mando said quietly after a while, rubbing Grogu’s ears, “You really liked her, huh?”

Grogu cooed, nodding his head a little before tilting it into his father’s touch. 

Mando sighed softly, resting his head on the pillow again and closing his eyes, “Me too, kid… Me too.” He allowed himself to inhale deeply, let that scent envelope him and lull him into sleep. 

~~

“Oh, thank the Force!! You’re still alive! Come here you little womp rat!” 

Peli’s excited exclamation was broken only by Grogu’s delighted squeal as he tottered over to her, arms outstretched and making grabby hands. 

Mando smiled behind his helmet. He knew coming here was the right thing to do. Grogu adored Peli, and hopefully this would cheer him up somewhat. He looked at Peli, the raised eyebrow evident in his voice as he leant against the side of his ship, “Did you expect us not to be?” 

Peli scooped Grogu up, holding him close after inspecting his body for injuries or hurts. “Are you blind, boy? Everyone is out looking for you. They know what you did, even out here. The droids picked up chatter from the town. Word is, they increased the bounty on your head and doubled the girls.”

Mando stood up straight quickly, “They’ve _doubled_ her bounty?! That’s… That’s ridiculous. It was already the highest I’ve seen.” 

Peli narrowed her eyes, watching his reaction. “So, it’s true then. You kept another bounty. I didn’t know Mandalorian’s liked to collect things so much.” Her voice was a little disapproving, but she motioned for Mando to follow her. “You shouldn’t be taking such stupid risks, Mando. You’ve got a child to look after. Harbouring criminals isn’t the way to do that.”

The words left his mouth like an instinct, “She’s not a criminal.” He followed her though, his boots scuffing up dust on the floor. 

Peli looked over her shoulder at him, her own eyebrows raised this time, “Oh? She’s not? So that bounty fell on her accidentally did it? Look, if we heard of her all the way out here, she must have truly done something b-“

“She is _not_ a criminal, Peli.” He tried to rein in the steel in his voice. Peli was just looking out for Grogu, and for him. But something about her tone had struck a nerve, reminded him of the own conclusions he had jumped to, and how badly it had hurt you. 

Peli didn’t even bother to turn around as she walked into the hangar, “And how do you know that? She tell you what she’s being hunted for?” She shifted Grogu to her other arm and pointed at the droids that rolled past her on their way to the ship, “Careful with those parts.”

Mando swallowed, hesitating as he looked back at the droids and then back toward Peli, following her to her desk area. “No. She didn’t. But I just know.” He sunk into a chair, picking up something from the desk and fiddling with it. 

Peli watched the movement, assessing him and she just hummed as she sat down herself, Grogu on her lap. “Look. What you do, who you meet and decide to put in your band of rogues is none of my concern. Hell, we know nothing about each other. But you have to remember, this child is still wanted by Moff Gideon. _You’re_ still wanted by both sides. You need to be careful.” Her voice was firm, but there was a note of softness there that you had to look to find, but it was there all the same. “I assume she’s in that ship of yours hiding? You can bring her out. I won’t bite her.”

Mando swallowed, his words becoming a little difficult and he had to pause again, “No. She’s not there. I… we parted ways.”

Peli frowned, looking down at Grogu who had turned his head to her, cooing. His ears had flopped a little again, but he didn’t contest the fact. She made a thoughtful noise again, “Parted ways?”

Mando sighed silently, wanting to take the subject away from you, the pain in his chest, “How has business been?”

She blinked, then burst out laughing, “Business? Are you actually pulling a joke on me, Mandalorian? Do you _see_ any business here? Tatootine is just as quiet as it was the last time you were here. Why? Looking for a job?”

Mando shrugged, setting down the object he’d been playing with, “It wouldn’t hurt to get some extra credits.”

Peli tilted her head thoughtfully, “Well, I can’t promise anything. But there have been a few new stragglers coming through the town lately. Some hunters, smugglers and the like. One of them might have something you can do. I wouldn’t rely on it though.”

He nodded, grateful for the chance to go and do something. Even if it was just walking into town, being told no, and heading back again. “Great. I’ll check it out in a bit.”

She wasn’t listening. She’d already diverted all of her attention back to Grogu, cooing at him and pulling faces. 

~~

Tatooine was just as dry, dusty and barren as it was the last time the Mandalorian had set foot here. Its inhabitants were scattered throughout the towns, which were dotted few and far between, though there were a handful more inhabitants here in Mos Eisley. It ws one of the larger spaceports, so had a little more traffic. 

It was still almost deserted though. 

You didn’t often see people or creatures in the streets, as the sun beating down was too much sometimes even for those that called the desert planet home. They also seemed to know when sandstorms were coming – which were often. Maybe there was another on its way. There was a wild wind brewing, stirring the sand. 

There weren’t many out today, maybe driven inside by the relentless sun, though a cluster had gathered here, in Chalmun’s Spaceport Cantina. 

It was a roughly hewn building on the outside, the same colour as the dusty ground. It was small, but its thick walls provided a natural shade, cool and dim out of the sun.

Mando ducked under the upper threshold as he stepped inside, ignoring the glances and muttering that occurred whenever he walked into a place. Even if he hadn’t been clad in shiny – albeit rather dusty – beskar, he still would have garnered the attention, simply for being a Mandalorian. 

He was used it to by now, but it did still make him feel uncomfortable sometimes. 

He surveyed the room, then walked to the bar, which provided the main source of light in the centre of the room. The atmosphere seemed…calm, though that could change at the drop of a hat and the bar could erupt into one of it’s famous brawls. 

The last time he’d set foot in this particular cantina, he’d helped a young bounty hunter… who’d turned traitor. 

He would try to avoid that this time. He only wanted a job. No help. 

The Mandalorian tapped the bar to gain the attention of the barman, “Hey. Anyone come through here with bounty pucks?” 

The barman paid him no attention, continuing to serve the customer, a pilot by the looks of his jumpsuit. 

Mando frowned behind his helmet, “No?” He was hot, a little agitated and he missed you. So his temper wasn’t the greatest. 

The barman snapped, “No. Come back tomorrow, maybe there’ll be a line of people waiting to fall at your shiny feet.” He looked at Mando in disgust then walked to the other end of the bar to serve.

Mando sighed, counting to ten his mind. He needed a job. He would just have to keep trying. 

And so, he did. Over the next three days, he went back again and again. And every day, he would come home with nothing. 

Each night, Peli would tell him over dinner that it was because of the approaching storm. That there would be more people once it had cleared. 

The third night, the storm finally rolled in. 

Mando was already awake, the lack of distraction meaning his thoughts were spiralling again, so he was conscious when the howling wind roared to life, bringing with it waves and waves of sand. 

He spent the night watching the wind move like it was an animal, unleashed from its cage to be free. It didn’t sound angry. It sounded mournful. Like it was tearing through the town looking for something, for someone. 

Mando couldn’t help but relate. 

~ 

The storm stayed for another four days. Endless howling of the wind, the cold chill it brought of a night, so different to the scorching wind of the days. 

Luckily, it gave the Mandalorian something to do. He secured his ship when the wind had died down a little, making sure there were no gaping holes or anything that could get damaged should the wind change direction. 

As much as he didn’t like droids, he had to admit that Peli’s did a pretty good job. 

After that, she had him clearing out any of her gear and belongings that were outside. 

Which meant hauling in all the nearby boxes and making sure the droids didn’t roll out and get buffeted and dragged away by the wind. 

When that was done, he was to spend his time clearing away the dust and sand that blew in through the openings. 

Peli told him she couldn’t work in a messy environment, but the scattered parts, oily rags and various paraphernalia dotted around would have him beg to differ. 

Still, it gave him a way to keep his mind busy. 

However, the jobs and handy work he did for her didn’t stop him from watching the storm every night, or from checking Peli’s rusty but still operational tablet for updates on the atmospheric pressure. 

…

The morning of the fifth day dawned bright and scalding. 

The storm was gone, reduced to a few gusts of heavy wind here and there, but nothing like the raging force of the past four days. 

The heat was even more oppressive than usual, like the wind had sucked any minuscule ounce of coolness from the air and left it feeling like fire in the lungs. 

Peli told him he was stupid, that the town would be deserted. She was even more annoyed when he informed her that he was taking Grogu. He had been penned inside for four days and was starting to act as stir crazy as Mando felt. 

Peli yelled at him, even threatened to take apart his ship but he respectfully ignored her and made the trek anyway. Even if every step in the blazing heat made it feel like his armour was melting to his body. He’d popped Grogu into his crib, to spare him from the scorching air. 

Why did he decided to come to another desert planet?

Maybe he would go somewhere cold next. 

Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Somewhere where he could take a breath of chilled, icy air. Somewhere he could show Grogu the snow..

_~“Snow and ice are stunning. They’re powerful and strong. I’ve only ever been in a proper snowfall once, and I fell in love. The way the flakes float down and.. dance even if there’s the faintest breeze. And then when they land on your skin or your eyelashes like little cold kisses… The sound it makes under your boots when you walk on a fresh fall. And it softens everything, makes it easier on your eyes to see across the landscape… it’s quiet, muffled…”~_

Mando’s heart wrenched as he remembered your words, the way your face lit up and your eyes danced as you described the feeling of snow on your skin. He swallowed, shaking his head free of the memory and walking into the cantina, Grogu’s crib floating along with him. 

The barman sneered at him, “What, no questions today?” 

Mando just shook his head, ordering a bowl of cold broth for the kid and then he retreated to a table in the corner, sinking into his seat. 

_Maker, he was tired. So, so tired._ He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper sleep and it was beginning to catch up with him now. 

The tiredness, mixed with the physical work of the past few days was getting to him. His back ached and his shoulders were constantly tense with the weight of his armour. He wasn’t a young man anymore, things had started to niggle and irritate more than usual. 

The quiet ambiance of the cantina and the soft slurps of Grogu enjoying his broth were beginning to lull the Mandalorian into sleep. His body relaxed into the hard bench seat, his eyes began to close behind the helmet, no matter how hard he fought it. 

_Maybe he could just close his eyes for a moment… just to rest.._

It wasn’t until Grogu’s sharp warning cry echoed through the fog in his brain, that he realised he’d actually fallen asleep. His head shot up from where it had rested on his chest, adrenaline shooting through his body so fast it made him dizzy. His hand had flown to the blaster on his hip by instinct, and he looked around rapidly for the cause of Grogu’s cry. 

And then he found it. 

Sitting opposite him and the kid, was a male figure, draped in an expensive looking black cloak that was embroidered with golden thread. The hilt of an ancient blade protruded above broad shoulders, sheathed down the figure’s spine. The cloak hid anything on the figures body, but Mando knew it was lined with weapons. 

The male figure had an elbow on the table, a long arm propped up with his hand disappearing into the darkness of his hood where he presumably had his chin resting. 

He knew that this man was a hunter. 

A predator. 

He could sense the coiled energy slumbering within the relaxed stance, just knew that the heavy material of his cloak hid an arsenal of weapons. 

That and the fact he could see the faint outline of a knife hidden within the man’s sleeve. 

The Mandalorian straightened, alertness flooding every single sense, along with the anger at his own sheer stupidity for falling asleep. He reached out, pulling Grogu off of the table and back into his crib in one fluid movement, shielding it between his body and the wall behind him. 

He might have chosen a corner table, might be backed into that corner, but at least no one could get the jump on him from behind. 

Mando had already marked the exists and potential attack points the first time he’d come here, so he didn’t need to worry about those. 

He was in the process of trying to spot any tells on his new acquaintance, when the figure laughed. 

A laugh like silk, flowing over the skin. A laugh that was designed to draw you in, to caress you and seduce you. 

The voice was the same. Low, with a rich baritone like velvet that slid over the Mandalorian’s bones, “Relax. You don’t need to go on the offence, Mandalorian. Though I know that might be hard for you.” He was grinning under that hood, and Mando could almost imagine a set of fangs to match the voice, itching to sink into flesh. 

“Don’t I?” The Mandalorian’s voice was hard, cold. He needed to get out of here… but something was making him curious about who this shadowy figure was, something niggling at the back of his mind like he knew. 

The figure shrugged, an easy gesture, “Nope. Trust me, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up from your little nap there. I could have killed you and that Peli woman during the storm and hung your skins out as wind gauges.”

_He knew who Peli was? Who was he?_

The Mandalorian said nothing. He supposed someone from the town could have spotted him staying at Peli’s. He’d have to leave. He didn’t want her getting hurt because of him. 

The man laughed again, set Mando’s teeth on edge, “Honestly, Mando. Are you always wound this tight? No wonder you don’t sleep.” He dropped his hand, resting both forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. They were clad in fine leather gloves, perfectly snug to his hands. “I won’t kill your little friend either, I promise. I’m here on business.” He paused, “Acceptable business, if you could call it that. Not my usual or favoured type of business, mind you.” 

Mando kept his hand on his blaster, kept his other arm held slightly out in case Grogu’s crib was on display. It was only then that he’d noticed the entire cantina had emptied out. It was just the three of them. _How long was he asleep?_

“What business would that be? I don’t exactly fall into the ‘acceptable business’ category myself.” He couldn’t keep the snideness out of his tone. 

The figure leaned into his hands, no ounce of light creeping past the hood. There was nothing there, just heavy darkness shrouding his face. “I need you to find someone for me. I’ve been tasked by someone supposedly important to bring them in, and I heard you’re almost as good as me.”

Mando had a feeling he knew where this was going. “And who am I helping you bring in? I don’t have sidekicks.”

The figure snorted, like Mando’s words amused him, “You think I’d be _your_ sidekick? Please. You’ve been living with your head in that bucket too long. You obviously don’t know who I am.” He might have shaken his head beneath the heavy cloak, “I digress. Here is the person I want you to help me find.” He slid a puck onto the table, “I think you’ll be able to help. I’d be happy to split the reward in half with you. It would be enough for you to take your little one to one of those sanctuary planets.” 

He didn’t want to press that puck. He didn’t want to reveal what he already knew. “Sorry. I just remembered. I’m busy.” He made to rise from his chair. 

The figure didn’t even move a finger, and suddenly an iron grip wrapped itself around the Mandalorian’s throat. He choked, his hand slipping from his blaster to his neck, trying to prise away whatever was suffocating him, but it wasn’t there. Nothing was touching him. 

The man watched him, “Sit down.”

The pressure became tighter, dragged down Mando’s body and forced his legs to relax and for his body to dump back onto the bench. “Now. Activate the puck.” 

Mando shook his head, gasping for breath beneath the helmet, his lungs already fit to burst and his eyes tearing up. _He had to protect you and the kid._

This man, if he was one, snarled softly, “Unless you want me to crush your windpipe and slit your baby in half, open the damn puck.”

Mando growled, clawing across the table and slamming his fingers onto the puck. 

At once, the pressure immediately vanished. The man still sounded calm, casual, “That’s a good boy.” 

The sudden rush of air was surprisingly not what had Mando gasping. It was your face, lit up in holo with the now absurdly high bounty flashing above it. 

He’d known it’d be you, but it was still like a blow to his heart. The hazy blue mirage of your face, projected into the air stared at him, cutting right through him. 

Mando shook his head again, his voice hoarse, “I don’t know where she is. I lost her. I don’t have the rights to go after again.”

The shadowy man leaned forward closer, flicking the puck “I knew you’d say that. I also knew that roughly a week ago, you dropped her off in Nevarro. I know that she’s currently staying under the protection of Marshal Cara Dune and Greef Carga.” He pressed the button to deactivate the puck. 

Ice spread through Mando’s belly. How did this freak know where you were? How did he know where you were staying? Had he been following you?

His heart started to increase rapidly in his chest, his brain scrambling for a way out of this conversation. If it were anyone else, he would have ripped them apart and left by now. 

But some primal instinct told him if he tried, he wouldn’t be the one walking away. 

The man pulled the puck toward him, slipping it deep within his cloak, “You catch on fast. You’re right. You wouldn’t be walking away. There wouldn’t even be enough of you left to paint the walls of this disgusting building. Not even with your precious baby.”

_What the fuck? He just…_

A silky chuckle emanated from the hooded abyss, “Yes, yes. Don’t dwell on it, Mandalorian. There are bigger things to worry about.” He sat up straighter. “Now, I’m assuming you don’t remember what I am. So, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I have been employed by someone who is far too arrogant and overestimates both their intelligence and their influence.” He paused, “No… employed is the wrong word. That would imply that they are my boss, and that is simply beyond ridiculous.” He tapped the table, “Anyway, as I was saying. I have been _paid_ by someone to find your little girlfriend. And I will not stop until I find her. There are no ifs, buts or maybes. I will find the girl. And it’ll be sooner rather than later.” 

Mando couldn’t breathe. There was a roaring in his ears. 

The man continued on, “My client has asked me to bring her back to them. And I am nothing if not a gentleman of my word, so I have promised that she will be taken to them. On one condition.” He reached behind him, unsheathing his sword and resting it on the table in front of him with a movement so smooth it could have been choreographed. “I will have her returned to me after they are done with her. For she belongs to me, truly. And I will do to her whatever I see fit.”

A deadly fury rose within Mando like a tidal wave at the disgusting possessiveness in this mans words, but it was diminished when he saw the blade.

As long as his arm, a metal so black it sucked the very light from the room. There patterns within the surface, liked it was folded back onto itself again and again, until it was virtually indestructible. The centre of the blade and its hilt were etched in gold with symbols that Mando didn’t know. 

But he recognised them. 

With a sudden clarity, it came rushing back to him. 

As a child, he was told bedtime stories, of a terrifying phantom of death. He rode the night sky, which answered to him. He slipped through the shadows and into people’s minds. He could kill a man from the inside out without touching him, reduce him to a screaming pit of fear, so tortured that he would tear out his own eyes. 

He left behind no trace. He killed without mercy, without remorse for he had no soul. 

There were rumours that beneath his hood, lay the head of a monster, so vile and cruel that the deepest pits of the galaxy spat him back out because they were too good for someone like him. 

There was even talk of him in Mandalorian culture. Warnings. 

This being was the one thing that a Mandalorian should never engage in. For he would make even the most skilled hunter or assassin cower. He had slaughtered in the Mandalorian wars, killed thousands on either side and then returned later to suck the souls out of the dead. 

There were multiple names for him in Mando’a, the two most prominent being _Werda_ which meant _shadows,_ or more commonly, _Haran._ Translated, it meant hell, or cosmic annihilation, as he was said to be older than time. Older than the galaxy. He _was_ death. 

_Haran_ chuckled softly, “Ah, I thought that might stir up some memories. I admit, I was surprised when I learned that the Mandalorian’s knew who I was, and even warned you about me. As if they believed that would save you. I thought you were all… what’s the phrase? _Ori'buyce, kih'kovid._ All helmet, no head.“

He might throw up. Mando might throw up right here. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. A fucking myth, a legend told to Mandalorians and people across the galaxies, was sitting opposite him. 

He was real. 

He could speak Mando’a better than some of his fellow Mandalorians. 

_He wanted you._

_Haran_ was caressing a gloved finger up and down the edge of his blade, “I am going to get her, Mandalorian. She will be mine. She has belonged to me since the moment she was born, our fates entwined like threads of time. I will have her back by my side, and I will teach her everything that she is. I will help expand her past the limits of what she can be. She will be unstoppable. Indestructible.” There was a hunger in his voice, a hunger that struck genuine fear into Mando’s heart. 

Mando croaked, the only thing he could manage, “What are you talking about?” 

_Haran_ tiled his head again, his movements stilling, “She never told you?” That irresistible voice actually sounded surprised, then he chuckled, “Oh, that’s interesting. She’s obviously tried to forget who she truly is. No matter, I’ll show her soon enough.” He appeared to be thinking about something, then his cloaked head tilted up and Mando knew he was watching him. 

_If he even had eyes under there._

“You can go and run off to her now. But you won’t be able to save her.” Such simple words, spoken with such a casual knowledge, a man used to being right. 

The Mandalorian didn’t even think. He lurched from his seat, numbly pressing the button on his vambrace that had Grogu’s crib following him. 

_He had to get back to Peli. He had to get back to the Crest. He needed to find you, needed to take you somewhere far away, somewhere where you’d be safe from this monster._

“Wait.” 

The man caught Mando’s arm as he made to go past him, gripping it with an iron strength that seemed to reverberate throughout his bones, root him to the spot. He couldn’t move. 

“I tell you what. I’m a generous man, so I’m going to give you a head start. I’ll be here for the next seven days. After that, I’ll be making my way to Nevarro. And I will lay waste to anyone that tries to stand in my way. ”

Mando couldn’t speak, his tongue had frozen to the roof of his mouth with that same phantom grip. He could only make a choked noise, a growl that sounded as threatening as he could. 

The man laughed again beneath that fucking hood, letting go of the invisible grip and sheathing his blade, “Better hurry… _Lori.”_


End file.
